


Loopholes, Darn Loopholes, and Sadists

by Cinaed



Series: The Best of Carolina The Teenage Witch [9]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sabrina the Teenage Witch Fusion, Family Drama, Gen, Knives, M/M, Magic, Spells & Enchantments, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-23 02:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18145790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: It's almost summer, but Carolina has bigger plans than vacation. When she and Church attempt to find a loophole around the ban on speaking to her mother, things get strange and intense. Secrets are revealed, new characters are introduced, and Carolina's life gets even more impossibly complicated in this epic season finale ofCarolina: The Teenage Witch!





	1. Season One Finale Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aryashi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryashi/gifts), [creatrixanimi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/creatrixanimi/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we come to the season one finale of the show! It was a biggie, clocking in at over ten thousand words, so I split it up into two parts. The second part will be up in the next few days! 
> 
> Thanks go out, as always, to Aryashi, without whom this AU wouldn't have been written. This series is so much fun to write with you, and I can't wait to write more! Also, thanks for the Florida joke. 
> 
> [Creatrixanimi](http://creatrixanimi.tumblr.com/) also drew some amazing art for this fic as well as let me babble constantly about the story to her, so you should check out her other work if you haven't already!

Carolina and Church’s footsteps echo weirdly in the hallway. The school feels different empty of their classmates, larger and unfamiliar. Church looks twitchier with every step, his eyes darting around as they carry the mirror towards the cafeteria. It was the safest place they could think of for the spell. Grey and Kimball both think they're spending the evening with friends, and their friends think they're doing a thing with their guardians.

Carolina tries not to let his obvious nervousness affect her, but it’s hard when she’s filled with hope and worry herself. Her hands shake a little on the mirror, and she hastily readjusts her grip. They’ve spent months going over possible loopholes and settling on one, and then gathering the ingredients as they design the spell, she reminds herself. It will work. It has to.

“Okay,” Church says after the mirror is placed carefully on the floor. He jams his hands in his pockets and almost immediately takes them out again to jab a finger at Carolina’s backpack. He bites his lip. “We have all the ingredients?”

Despite her nerves, Carolina rolls her eyes. “You had me check three times, so I’m pretty sure we have everything.” She kneels and carefully starts taking out the ingredients.

First the chalk, which Church uses to draw two large circles around the mirror. In between the lines, he writes her mom’s name over and over again, showing much more care than he does on any of his homework assignments. Next the messenger pigeon feathers, which form a third circle. Then five candles, carefully placed along the mirror's edge. After that, Carolina unstops the bottled delusion and pours it on the silver surface. The liquid gleams and sparkles for an instant before the mirror absorbs it.

Carolina straightens. Church has the last ingredient in his hand, a rubber ball that claimed to be the bounciest at the toy store. He’s squeezing it so tightly that his knuckles are white. He looks queasy, but forces a smile when he realizes Carolina’s looking at him.

“Are you ready?” she asks.

Church snorts, and then his expression changes. “Are you?”

“Yes,” she says, sharper than she intends.

He holds up his hands. “I’m just asking.” He scowls down at the mirror, passing the ball from one hand to the other. “This isn’t exactly a simple spell. We’re improvising, remember? We spent months choosing the ingredients. Mirrors are natural conduits. The pigeon feathers should help guide the message to-- to your mom and the bottled delusion should confuse anyone trying to spy on us and the messages themselves.” He keeps talking, though he’s still staring at the mirror. “Codified spells are sturdy, they’ll work the way you want nine times out of ten, but improvised spells…. Improvised spells like to do their own thing. I mean, what could _possibly_ happen when you’re inventing a spell specifically to get around Council rules?” His mouth twitches, and he adds in a sarcastic mutter, “Not like any of us know exactly how sideways that can go.”

Carolina blinks for a second.

He looks up, and blinks back. “Me. I meant me.”

“Right,” she says, embarrassed. “I knew that.” Before he can say anything else or press her on her confusion, she steps forward and snatches the ball out of his hand. Anticipation flutters in her stomach. “Let’s try-- let’s do the spell.”

Church’s expression resettles into his earlier nervous look, but he nods. Turning towards the mirror, he points his finger at it and begins to recite the spell.

“Mirror, mirror on the ground, bounce this message all around.”

Carolina throws the ball. It lands heavily on the mirror’s surface, loud enough that Carolina has a moment’s panic that she’s broken the glass. Then the ball bounces, slingshotting wildly around the room, striking the walls and folded up tables with more energy than her throw deserves. The ball zips around, constantly missing Carolina and Church by inches.

The mirror starts to glow, flashing images too quickly for Carolina to make out, dozens of colors swirling together. Carolina’s vision blurs every time she tries to pick out a single image. Her heart is in her throat. She opens her mouth to say something, and nothing comes out, her longing choking her. Church darts a glance towards her and recites louder, “Mirror, mirror on the ground, bounce this message all around.” The hand not pointing at the mirror flaps at Carolina, a silent, _Say something!_

The mirror flashes a bright white light that has Carolina blinking away spots. Magic is definitely happening. She cups her hands around her mouth and yells, her heart in her throat, “Hello! Can anyone hear me? Hello?”

No one answers. Her heart drops. She shouts louder, “Hello! Can anyone hear me?” just as the rubber ball whizzes by her ear. She flinches. Desperate, she looks at Church again. He grimaces and shrugs, and together they chant the spell a third time. “Mirror, mirror on the ground, bounce this message all around!”

The ball bounces past Church. It strikes the center of the mirror again, but this time there’s no thud. The ball sinks through the mirror’s surface, which ripples like water.

Carolina’s breath catches. She doesn’t know what it means. Did the spell work? Did it fail? “Mom?” she whispers. She only realizes that she’s taken a step closer to the ritual circle when Church gestures her away from the mirror. She goes still, listening hard. She wants to hear her mom’s voice. No, she wants to see her mom. She wants to hug her, without a mirror and probably a continent between them--

“Sorry kiddos, you got the wrong number,” an unfamiliar voice says. Carolina almost cries with disappointment, because the voice, muffled like it’s coming from another room, clearly belongs to a man. The mirror glows, this time a dark green, and a wave of dizziness crashes over Carolina. She sways on her feet, and it’s only Church stumbling against her that keeps them both on their feet. “But we can still have some fun!”

Orange smoke billows out of the mirror’s surface. Still clutching onto Church, Carolina watches the smoke dissipate to reveal two men standing on the mirror. They’re both tall, one wiry where the other is broad, with clothing that looks like it’s seen better days.

One man’s holding the rubber ball. He tosses it aside with a flick of his wrist and a grin. When he speaks, Carolina recognizes his voice as the one who spoke through the mirror. “Gosh, Locus, teenagers are _so_ considerate these days. A nice unsealed spell just for us!”

Locus says nothing. Carolina has to bite back a cry of dismay as he silently stamps his foot. The heel of his boot cracks the mirror into pieces. He doesn’t stop there. He grinds the mirror into dust.  

The first man saunters forward, still smiling, though it has an edge to it. “Don’t you think we should say thanks somehow? Hm….” A snap of his fingers and another light puff of smoke, and there’s a knife in his hand, gleaming in the candlelight.  “Maybe a five minute head start?”

Church’s hand tightens on Carolina’s shoulder. He takes a small step towards the door.

Carolina doesn’t even see the man throw his knife. One second it’s in his hand, the next second it’s humming past her head and buried in the wall. Next to her, Church freezes, all color draining from his face.

“Hey,” the man chides, snapping his fingers. He conjures another knife. This one Carolina recognizes. It’s a butterfly knife. He flips it open and shut and open again with the terrifying ease of someone who knows knives. “Rude! We hadn’t decided we were giving you one ye--”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, because the fire alarm bursts into life and sound above all their heads.

The alarm screeches in Carolina’s ears, so loud and distracting that she almost misses the cafeteria doors swinging open. Whatever she’s expecting, it isn’t her chemistry teacher bolting into the room and sprinting towards Church and Carolina.

Wild-eyed, Simmons grabs them both around the waists and lifts them clean off their feet as he yelps,  “Take us away, take us away, it’s far too dangerous to stay!”

There’s a strange wrenching pull in Carolina’s stomach. The next thing she knows, she’s sitting in the back seat of an unfamiliar car, Church sitting open-mouthed with shock beside her, and Simmons breathing shakily in the driver’s seat and, from the sound of it, fumbling with his car keys.

Church takes a deep, gulping breath. “Crap. I-- who were those guys? They just-- we didn’t seal the spell, all our talk about keeping the Council from spying on us and we didn’t consider making it impossible for anyone to _hijack our magic_ \-- I can’t….” He blinks. “Why didn’t Grey or Kimball tell us our teacher is a witch?”

“I’m not!” Simmons says.

Church squints, some of his shock fading in favor of confusion. “Uh, you just did magic. You have to be a witch.”

Simmons snaps, “No, I didn’t-- holy shit. I did! Oh, crap, sorry for swearing--”

His apology turns to startled wheezing and silent flailing as Carolina wraps her shoelaces around his throat and throws her full weight into it like her mom taught her. The car rocks as he thrashes around, but Carolina grimly holds on. She doesn’t know what happened back there, but she’s not letting someone who uses magic one second and claims not to be a witch the next take them anywhere.

“Carolina!” Church screeches. “You can’t strangle our chemistry teacher! We’ll fail his class!”

“ _That’s_ what you’re worried about?!”

“Uh, a little! But also, he’s turning blue!”

“Good,” Carolina says, but loosens the shoelaces enough that Simmons can breathe.

For a second Simmons just wheezes. Then he says a rough whisper, “Look, I don’t, uh, I didn’t think that was going to work. I just heard him threatening you and thought-- wow, I did magic. It wasn’t a fluke.” He sounds dazed but weirdly pleased, before he twists in his seat. His glasses are askew as he frowns at them. “You guys need to come with me, we can ask…we can….”

The already unhealthy pallor of his face takes on a green tinge. “Oh,” he says, swallowing. “I don’t feel…. I think I need to lay down.”

“Carolina, what did you do?” Church hisses.

She shrugs, though she’s alarmed by the way Simmons lists sideways. “I didn’t pull that hard!”

“Yeah, I need to,” Simmons says, pausing mid-sentence and then not apparently finishing the thought. He looks around vaguely, his eyes unfocused. “I should, um--” He looks ready to flop awkwardly across the front seat before Church grabs his shoulder and says, “Uh, you can’t sleep, Mr. Simmons. We need to go.”

There’s an anxious urgency in his voice, and Carolina reorients herself. She looks outside the car and realizes that they’re in the school parking lot, dimly lit by street lights. The spell hasn’t taken them very far. “Move over to the passenger seat,” she says.

Church looks confused for a second. Then his eyes narrow. “You’re not driving.”

“Do you think _he’s_ in any shape to drive?” Carolina says, waving at Simmons, who’s listing again. She doesn’t finish her sentence before Church is talking over her, his voice high enough to break glass, “Those dudes threw a knife! And what, you’re just gonna drive us to the house? How do we explain our chemistry teacher with garrote marks to Kimball and Grey?”  

“Stop yelling about me choking him! He grabbed us and teleported us to his car!”

“Yeah, to get us _away_ from dudes with knives! Why would you attack someone who--”

A loud boom interrupts their argument. They look over to see smoke. Distant sirens fill the air.

“Well, bright side. Probably no school on Monday,” Church says weakly. “You know what? Anywhere is better than here. Mr. Simmons, give us your address.”

Simmons doesn’t look at him. He’s got his face pressed against the windshield glass. “Oh no, the school,” he moans. Then he straightens, looking alarmed before he pats his satchel. He slumps back against his seat, his eyes fluttering shut. “So much trouble….”

“No, it’s fine, we just have to, uh, get to your house, Mr. Simmons,” Church says. He slants an anxious look at Carolina and whispers, “Let’s get him into the passenger seat before the guys get bored of destroying the school. You, uh, do know how to drive?”

“My mom taught me,” Carolina whispers back.

Church makes about three different faces at that, but together they manage to maneuver Simmons into the passenger seat. Simmons doesn’t fight them, except to clutch his satchel to his chest when Church tries to get him buckled into his seat.

As soon as Church is buckled in, Carolina adjusts the driver seat, turns on the low beams, and hits the gas. She gets out onto the main street and immediately slows down to the speed limit. The last thing they need is to get pulled over when she doesn’t have a license and Simmons is half-conscious.

Church leans between the seats. “Mr. Simmons, where do you live?”

Simmons groans. “Don’t yell.”

Church opens his mouth to argue that he isn’t yelling, but subsides when Carolina glares at him in the rear-view mirror. “Uh, sure. Can you give us directions to your house?”

Simmons groans again, but mumbles instructions. Carolina tries not to get distracted by the fact that he looks worse with every minute. He's still green, and now he's started to alternate between rubbing at his head and his arm and whimpering faintly every time Carolina hits a bump in the road. Eventually Simmons’ head lolls against the windshield.

Church leans forward and pokes his shoulder with a finger. When Simmons doesn’t move, he pokes him a second time and then says, “If he dies, would I get charged as an accessory? You’re the Westbridge Strangler. I’m just an innocent bystander.”

Carolina’s so busy glaring at him that she almost misses a stop sign. “He’s fine!”

“Yeah, not really. Hey, if we need to hide the body, should we dump him in the woods, or--”

“Shut up,” Carolina says through gritted teeth.

Simmons stirs, and Church almost looks disappointed as Simmons blinks and squints at the nearest street sign. His voice is so low that Carolina has to strain to hear him. “T-turn right on Howe Street….left on Wardwell….then…. 140. Apartment, um, apartment twelve.”  He groans again, squeezing his eyes shut.

For a second she thinks he’s completely unconscious and then eye opens and he croaks out, “Speed limit’s 25.”

Church’s laughter has a hysterical edge to it.

Carolina scowls as she turns right, then left, and then struggles to parallel park in front of Simmons’ apartment. In the end she takes out a mailbox, and glares at Church until he does a spell that fixes the dents.

“Okay, I think he’s actually unconscious,” Church says when he opens the passenger side door and Simmons tilts towards him, stopped only the seat-belt. He glances up at the apartment and scratches at his cheek. “So, uh…. How are we doing this?”

“You take his feet, I’ll grab his arms.”

“Great,” Church mutters. “This day is just so...great.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Grif’s half-asleep when he hears muffled voices in the hall. He ignores them. If everything goes according to schedule, Simmons will stomp into the apartment in another hour or so, sour-faced and frustrated over his latest failed experiment, and bitch for a while before he sulks over popcorn and a movie.

The voices rise and fall. Then there’s a heavy thud in front of the door and a moment’s silence before the doorknob rattles. Grif sits up on the back of the couch, staring in disbelief as the door opens and two kids stagger inside carrying Simmons like a sack of potatoes.

They hesitate for a second, and one of them mutters, “Why’s the TV on?” before the other hisses back, “No one’s here, just put him on the couch!”

They stumble forward, the boy yelping as he hits his knee on the coffee table, and dump Simmons there. Simmons looks like death warmed over when the girl turns on the lights and the room is no longer lit only by the TV. His face blanched and shiny with sweat, and there are red marks on his throat. Grif digs his claws into the couch and eyes the kids, wondering what the hell is going on.  

“Why...was he so…heavy?” the boy gasps, his hands on his knees. “And that stupid….nerd binder. Making us...drag his bag and his Dungeons and Dragons….crap with him….”

“No idea,” the girl says. She’s slightly breathless, but not breathing as hard as the other kid. She glances around the room, her eyes pausing on Grif, before she adds, “Let’s make sure he’s going to be okay, and then we’ll go.”

“Oh, yeah, where? Where is the best place to talk about how screwed we are?”  

“Being sarcastic isn’t helping, Church!”

“Well, it helps me!”

While the kids argue, Grif leans down and taps Simmons’ face with a paw. “Simmons,” he whispers, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. “Are we being robbed? What’s happening?”

Simmons groans. His eyes flicker open, unfocused before they settle on Grif. For a second there’s no recognition in his face, and then he says in a rough, scratchy voice, “Grif! Grif, I did magic. I-- ow, ow. Magic hurts. Ow!” He half-raises a hand, winces again, and then squeezes his eyes shut, breathing shallowly. "Ow," he mumbles again, very faintly, and passes out.

“Knew he’d be that dude who talks to his cat,” Church says. Then he groans, rubbing at his eyes. “Carolina, who _were_ those guys?”

“Why would I know?” Carolina’s face crumples. “The spell was supposed to let me talk to my mom, not-- not some strangers!”   

Grif stares between the kids. Of course they’re teenage witches. Of course they are. For a second he debates with himself to let the kids keep talking, wait for them to leave, and then try to wake Simmons up and find out what happened. Every instinct tells him to avoid getting involved in whatever trouble they’re in. But Simmons is unconscious, Carolina’s about to cry, and Church looks five seconds away from a panic attack himself.

He sighs. “What did you guys do and why is Simmons half-dead?”

Church jumps. “What did you--” He stops mid-screech, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a witch familiar. And Mr. Simmons is the witch assigned as your guardian.”

Grif stares back, and then yawns pointedly as Church’s eyes narrow further. “Well, you’re half-right. So what did you do? And someone should check Simmons' pulse, maybe throw a little water on him. I would, but….” He holds up a paw and wiggles it.   

“Right,” Carolina says, and wipes a quick hand across her eyes before she crouches next to Simmons and presses her fingers against his throat. Grif waits impatiently as her lips move, counting out the beats. She frowns.  “His pulse is pretty fast. Why would a spell affect him like that?”

“Uh, you also strangled him,” Church points out.

Grif feels his hair bristle and his tail begin to whip against the couch. “You did what now?”

“A guy threw a knife at us, and then Mr. Simmons teleported us to his car! I didn't know what was going on!” Carolina snaps defensively.

“So you thought, hey, I should strangle the guy who got me away from a knife-throwing maniac,” Grif says flatly, before her words fully register. He snorts. “Except there’s no way Simmons teleported anybody. You guys are either lying or stupid.”

“Hey!” Church says.

Carolina bites her lip, frowning down at Simmons. “He’s unconscious. Should we get him some help?” She hesitates. “I, um, I could call Dr. Grey--”

“Uh, hard pass on that offer, whoever Grey is,” Grif says at the same time Church snaps, “Oh yeah, great idea! And what are we going to tell her? That we tried to break a Council rule and totally screwed it up?”

“I don’t know! But we can’t just stand around while Mr. Simmons might be dying!”

“ _Dying_?” Grif says, and then almost falls off the couch in relief as Simmons opens his eyes and mumbles, “Please stop yelling.” His voice is low and scratchy.

“Great time to take a nap, Simmons,” Grif drawls, forcing sarcasm into the words. He stares down at Simmons’ still-sickly pale face and his askew glasses, irritated and relieved all at once. He paces along the back of the couch, tail thrashing as he wonders what Simmons has gotten them both into.  

Carolina frowns at Grif. “Mr. Simmons, how are you feeling?”

“Like someone ran me over with a steamroller,” Simmons says, and then blinks, adjusting his glasses and squinting around at the three of them. “Uh. How did we get here? And um, I guess the cat’s out of the bag about Grif?” He huffs out a breath. “Pun not intended.”  

“Claim the pun, Simmons. It was almost funny.”

Simmons sits up with a wince, rubbing at his arm. He shoots Grif a half-accusing, half-plaintive look. “You didn’t say magic hurts.”

“It doesn’t! Maybe using magic is bad for mortals or something.”

Simmons looks horrified by the thought, and then annoyed as Church says, “Mortals can’t do magic.”

“Well, I am and I did,” Simmons says. Then some of the tension leaves his face. Amazement replaces it. “Holy s-- crap, Grif. I did magic! I teleported them to my car!”

Church scowls. “Look, we’ve got big problems. Can you guys stop pretending a mortal can do magic?”

Simmons frowns. “We’re not pretending. I’m a mortal.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Yeah, he is, dude,” Grif says.

“No, he isn’t!” Church snaps.

Carolina makes a frustrated sound, part growl, part yell. Everyone turns to her and blinks. She glares back, then holds up a finger, intoning, “Witches or mortals, standing here, witches or mortals, tell me clear.”

For a second, nothing happens. Just as Carolina starts to look uncertain, glowing blue letters appear above her head, one by one, until they’ve spelled out WITCH. The spell moves to Church next, who rolls his eyes at the WITCH above his head. Third is Grif, who twitches his tail and mutters, “Yeah, big surprise,” as the spell labels him as a witch too.  

There’s a pause, as though the spell is holding for drama or perhaps just confused by Simmons himself. Then the first letter appears over Simmons’ head.

_M_

“Nope,” Church says.

_O_

“No.”

_R_

“That isn’t--”

_T_

“Carolina, you messed up the spell!”

_A_

“No, I didn’t!” Carolina glares and stomps past the couch, disappearing into the kitchen just as the final letter completes the word.

_L_

The word floats above Simmons’ head. He glances up at it, his eyes wide. He’s still rubbing his arm, but his other hand twitches, like he wants the notebook where he jots down everything Grif has told him about witches. An excited smile spreads across his face. “That was an improvised spell, right? I didn’t recognize it from the spellbook. How did it know? Is there a difference in DNA or--”

“This isn’t possible,” Church says faintly. Then he blinks. “What spellbook?”

Simmons gets a little color back in his face as he blushes. “Oh. Uh. One of you left your spellbook at school?”

“And he stole it,” Grif says.

“Borrowed!”

“Wait. So you copied spells from my book and _you_ \--” Church stares at Grif. “--just let a mortal try to do magic?” The kid’s been pacing around the room, his hands gesturing wildly as he argues. Now he goes still, his shoulders straight and his hands curled into loose fists at his side as he glares between Grif and Simmons. His eyes are like chips of green glass as he says slowly, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Uh, how was I supposed to stop Simmons from doing experiments? Claw his eyes out?” Grif snorts. “And it’s not like I expected him to succeed.” Then it sinks in, and he almost falls off the couch for the second time in ten minutes. “Wait, he seriously did magic? Like, real magic?”

“Real magic,” Simmons says, turning slightly to beam at him.

Grif’s been starting to relax now that Simmons is up and coherent. His hair bristles again as he considers the Council’s reaction to a mortal successfully using magic. “Huh,” he says, and licks the tip of his nose. “So that’s another secret to keep from the Council.”  

Church barks out a laugh. “That might be the largest understatement of the millennia,” he says, and Grif blinks at him, because the kid’s accent is different, the syllables drawn out in an icy drawl. “The idea that mortals can use magic is anathema to everything the Council believes. They won’t allow word of this to spread. They will wipe the minds of _every resident of this state_ to ensure secrecy! I was there the day they enacted that magic on Florida!”

Simmons glances at Grif, who shrugs. “What happened to Florida?”

“Trust me, it’s better that you don't know.”

“Church, you weren’t there,” a quiet voice says. It’s Carolina, who almost absently hands a glass to Simmons, her eyes fixed on Church. Her expression is as strange as Church’s new accent, tense and worried.

Church’s eyes blaze. He makes an impatient sound. “Of course I was, Carolina!”

Carolina makes an aborted movement, like she’s about to step towards him and then reconsiders. “No, you weren’t, Church. Remember?” There’s a heavy emphasis on his name.

Church shakes his head. “I remember clearly, I--” His mouth snaps shut. The color goes from his face. “Oh. Right.” His body, ramrod straight a second ago, collapses; he drops onto the love seat like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

“Uh,” Grif says. He exchanges another baffled look with Simmons. After a second, Grif decides things are complicated enough without asking what that weirdness was about. “Maybe we all need drinks.”

“They’re underage, Grif,” Simmons says.

“I meant water,” Grif lies. Simmons definitely needs a drink. He’s still looking a little gray, his hand shaky as he cups the glass. Grif taps his shoulder with a paw. “Drink.”

“Yeah, um, I’ll get everyone water,” Carolina says, still watching Church worriedly. She waits a second, but Church doesn’t respond. She’s clearly rattled too, because she comes back with three glasses and starts to offer one to Grif before she realizes her mistake.

Church takes the offered glass and then blinks at it as though he’s not sure what to do before he takes a slow, unsteady gulp.

“So, maybe we should talk about the men at the school?” Simmons asks during the awkward silence. He moans, but this time he sounds dismayed rather than in pain. “Oh god, they blew up the school. If Principal Larue wasn’t too, um, fiscally minded to install security cameras, we’d be in so much trouble….”  

Grif says, “You mean cheap.”

“He’s my _boss_ , Grif!”

“Uh huh. So that means the school is closed, right? Do you still get paid while they repair it, or….” He trails off at Simmons’ glare.

“I don’t think that’s important right now. We need to talk about those guys. Why were they there?”

“Um,” Carolina says. She darts a glance at Church, but he’s frowning darkly into his glass. She bites her lip, fidgeting with her ponytail. “Church and I were…. Um. My mom is a mortal. We were trying to do a spell so I could--” Her voice wobbles. “I wanted to talk to my mom, so we were trying to-- but it didn’t work. These guys answered and hijacked our spell and just sort of came out of the mirror?”

“Wait, you’re a witch but your mom is a mortal?” Simmons asks at the same time Grif snorts and says, “Yeah, that happens when you don’t seal your spell.”

Carolina bristles. “I just wanted to talk to my mom!”

Grif feels a little guilty as her voice cracks, and by the way Simmons turns to stare accusingly at him. In his defense, Simmons never asked if witches and mortals could have kids. He kneads the couch cushion, inwardly grimacing in anticipation of how furious Simmons will be over the rules about witch-mortal marriages, and mutters to Simmons, “Uh, yeah. Half-mortal witches are a thing. It’s, uh, complicated. I’ll explain later.”

Simmons looks ready to argue, but Carolina says, “I don’t know who they were, but they-- The one guy kept doing a spell and making _knives_ , and he threw one at Church, and-- I don’t know why they’d do that or what they wanted.”

“Locus,” Church says dully, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “The knife guy called the other one Locus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Who's this Locus character? Simmons did magic again? What does it mean that worlds have finally collided?! Find out on Carolina the Teenage Witch, after the break!_


	2. Season One Finale Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Welcome back to Carolina: The Teenage Witch. Before the commercial break, Church and Carolina's spell had gone badly wry, the school took some damage, Mr. Simmons did some magic, and the kids met Grif. What else is in store for them? Let's find out in the rest of "Loopholes, Darn Loopholes, and Sadists"!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the conclusion of season one. I hope you guys enjoy it, and are ready for season two. :)
> 
> This chapter also has some more amazing art by [creatrixanimi](http://creatrixanimi.tumblr.com/).

Carolina says, “I don’t know who they were, but they-- The one guy kept doing a spell and making _knives_ , and he threw one at Church, and-- I don’t know why they’d do that or what they wanted.”

“Locus,” Church says dully, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “The knife guy called the other one Locus.”

Grif hisses, loudly enough that Simmons flinches and almost drops his glass. He can feel every last hair stand on end. He struggles with his control, though all the stupid cat instincts have him wanting to get to the highest place in the room and stay there. “ _Locus_.” The name comes out as a low growl.  

“Locus?” Simmons repeats. His eyes widen. “Wait, isn’t that the guy--”

“Who got me sentenced to ten years of being a cat? Yeah. That’s him.” Grif flexes his claws, fighting against another hiss as a terrible thought occurs to him. “Wait, the other guy. Tall, face like a ferret? Talks way too much?”

“Uh, yeah,” Carolina says. “You know them?”

“Sort of. That’s Felix and we’re screwed,” Grif says flatly. “Those guys tried to overthrow the Council, and if they used your spell to escape jail, that’s like...man, you’re going to be on Pluto with them. Or familiars for five hundred years. Or--”

“Of course,” Church says. Grif’s not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing that he sounds like a pissy teenager again, screechy voice and everything. “Of course. That’s just the-- the cherry on top of this disaster sundae. Of course we’d help with a jailbreak. Why not? How could this night possibly get any worse?”

“Shut up, you’re gonna jinx us,” Grif says. He stares uneasily at the closet, but when no one from the Council bursts inside in the next few seconds, he relaxes a little. “But yeah, they’re, uh, bad news.” For the crime of accidentally helping a fugitive, the Council had put Grif on trial alongside Locus and Felix. He gets queasy remembering the long list of crimes the Council had read. “What they did to that Councilor and his kid….” He shivers.

Simmons looks both curious and nervous. “What did they do? Transform the the Councilor and his kid into something? Insects? Rocks? Did they stick them somewhere weird?”

“No, dude, they just killed them.”  

“Oh,” Simmons says, faintly.

“Oh,” Carolina echoes. It’s her turn to wobble like her legs can’t support her, except she’s not anywhere near a chair. She ends up half-sitting on the coffee table. She bites her lip again. “So, um, thanks, Mr. Simmons, for getting us out of there. Sorry about the….” She trails off, making a vague gesture that probably is meant to symbolize strangling.

“Um, well, it’s okay?” Simmons says, and then makes a face. “Well, not _okay_ , but you know what I mean.”

“So what are we going to do?” Church asks. “Like, Felix and Locus are out there.”

“Sounds like a problem for the Council to me,” Grif says. He glances at Simmons. “Though, uh, we should probably expect someone from the Council to check on us, just in case they think I’m stupid enough to help Locus a second time.”

Carolina and Church stare at him. “You _helped_ him?”

“I didn’t know who he was!” Grif snaps. “And you’re being pretty judgy for kids trying to break one of the Council’s biggest rules!” He almost elaborates, but glances at Simmons and reconsiders. Does he really want Simmons to start yelling? The answer is definitely no.

Church’s shoulders slump. “I can’t believe we didn’t seal the spell,” he says bleakly.  

“This isn’t just a problem for the Council, Grif,” Simmons says. “They were going to kill Church and Carolina! What if they hurt someone else?”

“Oh yeah, and you can stop them? You and what army? You did one spell and passed out.”  

“He has a point, Mr. Simmons,” Carolina says, frowning. “What if mortals using magic is dangerous?”

Simmons gets a familiar stubborn look on his face. “That’s a risk I can choose to take.” Then he takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “But maybe not one I should when we’re dealing with murderers. Is there a Council hotline or something we could call?”

“No!” Church and Grif snap together, and Church adds, “Unless you _really_ want to see Pluto up close and personal.”

Simmons opens his mouth, and Grif knows in his heart that he’s about to be a nerd and say that he’d love to travel the galaxy. Besides having thumbs and the ability to drink beer, rolling his eyes is one of the things Grif misses the most. He drawls, “It’d be a one-way ticket, Simmons.”

“Okay, never-mind.”

“The Council will track them down, right?” Carolina asks. She looks worried.

“Felix and Locus killed Ruben,” Grif says flatly. “The Council might like having fewer powerful witches around, but they won’t let anyone who killed one of them stay free.” He paces slowly behind Simmons’ head. “Now, about all this.”

Church and Carolina glance at each other. “This?”

“Yeah, I mean, we've got some mutually assured destruction here, right? You can blackmail us about Simmons and magic, we could blackmail you two about trying to break a Council rule. How about we all agree not to tell the Council anything?"

There’s a long silence. Grif looks around the room at the expressions of confusion and outrage, and realizes that literally no one else has been thinking about blackmail. God, to be so naive. “If anyone talks to the Council, we’re _all_ screwed. Just keep your mouths shut and let the Council handle Felix and Locus.”

“Okay, good idea,” Simmons says. Then he hesitates, staring between Church and Carolina. “But, uh, if we did need ingredients for a spell, would you guys be able to get--”

Church laughs incredulously. “You’re seriously asking us to get you stuff from the Other Realm? We’re in enough trouble!”

Simmons starts to blush. “Well, not _now_ , obviously. When the Felix and Locus thing is over.”

“No.”

Carolina shrugs when Simmons looks at her. “Sorry.”

There’s another beat of silence, and then Carolina clears her throat. “Um, so we should probably go home, but I...kind of drove your car here? Do you think you could drop us off near our house?”

“You did?” Simmons says, blinking. Grif has a second to wonder if he should be concerned about the obvious amnesia, before Simmons narrows his eyes. “Wait. You’re not old enough to drive.”

Church shrugs. “Hey, she got us here in one piece. It worked out.”

Simmons stands, wincing. He rubs at his thigh. “So magic usually doesn’t make your entire body hurt? Or give you a headache?” He sighs when everyone shakes their head. “Right. Okay. That’s good to know. Where are my car keys?”

“Uh, with your bag, out in the hall,” Church says.  

“With my bag--” Simmons squawks. He hobbles outside and returns, clutching his satchel to his chest protectively. He clearly wants to look inside and check on his photocopied spellbook and his notes, but just as clearly doesn’t want to show them to the kids in case they try to steal them. He says with brittle cheerfulness, “Okay, let’s go!”

Grif waits for the door to close behind them, and then covers his face with his paws and groans.

“I should’ve destroyed that stupid spellbook,” he grouses. "Then we wouldn't be in this mess." He remembers the kids and irritably flicks his tail. “Okay, then those kids would be dead, so….”  He leaps down and paces through the room, trying not to think about Locus or Felix or the fact that they know Simmons' face and where he works. Even giving into his stupid cat instincts and rubbing his scent against the places Carolina and Church had been until the place smells just like him and Simmons again doesn't help.

Finally he flops back on the couch and tries to take a nap. Simmons should be home any minute now, and he'll have a million questions.

 

* * *

 

Carolina is clinging to her control, but it’s fraying by the second. Too many emotions twist and churn in her stomach, so many that she can’t even name all of them. She can pick out frustration, fear, guilt, and disappointment, but it’s worry that has her darting quick glances at Church.

He hasn’t said a word since they got into Simmons’ car. He still doesn’t say a word as he stalks up the steps of the brownstone and up the stairs towards his room, only acknowledging Kimball’s hello with a jerky nod of his head.

Carolina follows.

She waits until they’re both inside his room. Then she closes the door, takes a deep breath. The whole evening since the second Carolina realized the spell went wrong has been awful, and she has a feeling this conversation is going to be awful too. “Want to talk about it?”

His shoulders tense and then he barks out a laugh. “No.”

Carolina didn’t expect anything different, but she presses. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m not okay!” he snaps. Now he does turn, glaring at her. “I don’t think you realize what a big deal Simmons using magic is! _Mortals can’t use magic_. So either mortals are evolving, or mortals have been able to use magic all along and the Council just refuses to let them, or--”

Carolina holds up her hands, but he keeps going until she says, “Okay, mortals can do magic. So what? That’s not what I was asking about.”

Church flinches. She almost misses it. He jams his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, his shoulders still tense. His entire body is tense. “A murderer threw a knife at me. What do you think? I’m stressed out!” His voice rises, getting almost to a screech, before he glances towards the door and visibly forces himself to speak in an angry whisper.

“I’m not asking about that either! You did that--” Carolina doesn’t have the words for it, the way Church’s entire body language shifted to her father’s, the punch to her stomach when Church argued that her father’s memories were his. “You sounded like...him,” she says at last, though that’s not quite right. “Are you-- is there-- does that happen a lot?”

“No!” Church hisses. He shakes his head. “No! I mean, not like _that_!”

“Like that?”

“Like…” Church takes one hand from his pockets and gestures vaguely, grimacing as though he’s struggling for the right words too. “Overwhelming! Yeah, sometimes I get... confused, a _little_ , but nothing like what happened back there. I’m still me. I’m my own person. I’m _Church_.”

Carolina hesitates. She wants to press for more, like exactly what he means by confused, but she also knows she’s one or two steps away from asking him too much. If he shuts her out now, will he tell her if this happens again? She’s probably lucky he told her this much.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “But this time was different, right? We should figure out why.”

Church gives her a suspicious look. When she doesn’t say anything else, his shoulders loosen a little. He manages an unhappy smile. “I have a few guesses. Simmons means everything we know about mortals is wrong. That’s….really, really big. I know you don’t get it, but it’s a big freaking deal.”  

“Yeah, but maybe it’s a good thing?” Carolina’s not surprised by the look Church gives her, though she means it. If mortals can use magic like witches, then maybe the Council might-- Her throat gets tight. She forces herself to refocus. “So, if this time was different, do you think it was the shock that made you, um, overwhelmed?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” Church snorts. “Or just too many crappy things happening at once. That Felix guy threw a knife! At my face!” His voice rises and cracks again, and he darts another nervous look towards the door. He sighs. “Do we have to keep talking about this?”

It’s Carolina’s turn to give him a look.

Church grimaces. “At least for now? I want to eat a lot of junk food and not think about what a screw-up tonight was.” His expression changes; she blinks at the sudden sympathy in his face, and then blinks harder, her eyes unexpectedly stinging, as he adds, “I’m sorry the spell didn’t work.”

“Yeah,” she manages after a second. “Me too.”

She’s grateful when he doesn’t say anything. She gets herself under control with a few deep breaths, even though the disappointment _hurts_ , like Felix’s knife lodged itself in her chest instead of the cafeteria wall. She assumed that she couldn’t miss her mom even more than she already does. It’s not a great feeling to realize that she’s wrong.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” she says. “And if it happens again, you’ll tell me?”

“Sure,” Church says. “Want some chocolate?”

Somehow Carolina manages a watery laugh. “That’ll make me feel worse.”  

Church laughs too, though it’s strained.

 

* * *

 

Simmons has questions. Too many, really. He can’t decide which one to ask Grif first. It doesn’t help that he still feels exhausted and sore from the spell. It’s not as bad as earlier, when the headache and fatigue knocked him out, but it still feels like the early days of his physical therapy. His arm and leg twinge painfully, his entire body aching, but he manages to limp from his car to the apartment.

When he opens the door, Grif’s sitting up, his tail twitching slightly. “You need a drink,” he says before Simmons even opens his mouth.

Simmons frowns. “Grif--”

The phone’s shrill ringing startles them both. Simmons jumps a foot in the air and Grif turns and spits at the phone, his fur bristling.

The phone keeps ringing as Simmons grabs for it. “Uh, hello?” he says, darting a confused glance at the clock.

A second later he has to hold the phone away from his ear as Sarge bellows, “Simmons!”

“Hello, Sarge,” Simmons says. He’s bewildered for a second, and then realization dawns. He should’ve known word would travel fast about the school. “Um, is everything okay--”

Sarge talks into the phone like he’s shouting from another room. “Of course not! Think, son! Why would we be using the phone tree if everything was fine and dandy? No, there was an accident at the school. They’re still investigating but everyone knows the ovens needed replacing ten years ago.”

“Oh no, the school!” Simmons tries to fake surprise, but judging by Grif’s expression, it comes out weird. He coughs. “So no one was hurt?”

“Why would anyone be at school, Simmons? It was all away games this weekend. Only damage was to the cafeteria. Larue didn’t say, but I saw the news. Looks like at least a week or two for repairs.”  

“Oh no,” Simmons says, genuinely dismayed. “And, um, I don’t know. I mean, I haven’t seen the damage. Maybe the firefighters were in danger….” He hasn’t thought to worry about Locus and Felix staying and harming the firefighters, but now he shivers at the thought, sick with relief that the night hasn’t ended up with the worst-case scenario.

When he refocuses, Sarge is saying, “--don’t trust them! Lopez and I could fix things better than a contractor!”

“Um, yes, I’m sure you could, Sarge,” Simmons agrees weakly. “I should call Donut.”

“Heh, is that who you have to call? Good luck with that!” Without another word, Sarge hangs up.  

“So, that drink?” Grif says.

Simmons sighs and goes to pour himself a glass before he calls Donut.

“Good evening!” Donut croons.  

“Hi, Donut.”

“Simmons!” Donut sounds genuinely delighted, if confused. “And to what do I owe this unexpected call?” He listens to Simmons’ explanation about the school, interrupting multiple times with loud, theatrical gasps. “A week?” he half-shrieks. He sounds genuinely shaken. Simmons has a second to be surprised and touched by Donut’s devotion to the school before Donut whispers, “Do you...do you think they’ll add that week to the end of the school year?”

Simmons blinks. “Uh, I’m not sure.”

“But Frank and I have a spa vacation planned!”

“Uh, Donut, that--”

“It’s non-refundable!”

“Donut--”

“I need that seaweed wrap, Simmons. _I need it_.”

Simmons finishes off his wine in a desperate gulp and says, “Donut! Even if they do extend the school year, you can always use vacation time!”

“Oh, right,” Donut says, instantly calm. He laughs. “Whew! I really thought things were serious for a second! Now Frank and I can get rubbed down all we like!”

“Uh huh,” Simmons says weakly. “So, you should probably call your designated teacher….”

When he puts the phone down, it takes him a second to collect his thoughts. He’s so tired, even if curiosity still keeps questions spinning around in his head. He takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes. “So. Half-mortal witches.”

“Uh, yeah, they’re a thing.”

“And you didn’t tell me about them?”

“You didn’t ask,” Grif says.

Simmons snorts and resettles his glasses so he can frown at Grif, who blinks guileless eyes back. He purses his lips. “Come on, Grif. Of course I’d be interested that half-mortal witches exist and the implications. It means witches and mortals aren’t that different! And that--” He stops, grinding his teeth as he bites back a yawn. When Grif just stares, Simmons sits beside him.

It’s a mistake. As soon as he leans against the back-pillows of the couch, exhaustion drops on him like a blanket. His eyes start to shut on their own. “Crap,” he mutters, struggling to stay awake. “What’s the--” He yawns. “--deal with--” He yawns again, a jaw-popping one.   

Simmons feels the couch shift, and a sudden weight against his side as Grif moves closer, curling against his hip. It’s like having a thirty-pound heating pad, radiating warmth; Simmons sinks a little more against the couch while Grif mutters, “Yeah, buddy. Maybe save the questions for when you can remember the answers.”

A paw taps at Simmons’ cheek. “Take off the glasses.”

“Questions tomorrow?” Simmons says, or tries to around another yawn as he fumbles with his glasses. There’s rumbling sound in his ears, like Grif’s purring, but he’s asleep before Grif answers.  

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Simmons! Using your free time for some reading?”

Simmons turns, and winces as his neck complains. He woke up stiff from the spell and sleeping on the couch, and hobbling around the apartment hunting for Grif to ask questions made him feel worse. For a witch familiar who claims that he can’t use his magic, Grif’s disappearing act rivals Mr. Mistoffelees. One hot shower later, Simmons still feels sore.

It takes him a second to recognize the speaker. “Oh, Ms. Kimball!” he says, an awkward laugh bubbling up in his throat. He tries not to stare. How much does she know? He realizes he doesn’t know anything about Carolina and Church’s situation, just that somehow being half-mortal means Carolina can’t see her mom. “Um, yeah. Crazy about the school, right? Who knew ovens could explode like that? I mean, obviously ovens can explode, with the gas and potential chemical reactions, but-- At least it’s only closed for a week!”

Ms. Kimball’s eyebrows rise slightly. “Yes,” she says slowly. “Though I think Church and Carolina needed the surprise vacation. I couldn’t get either of them out of bed for breakfast.”

Simmons feels his smile freeze. “Oh, I, uh, hope they’re not coming down with something!” Simmons realizes he’s talking too loud when someone at the nearby table gives him a dirty look. He flushes and says, “But um, actually, I was looking for books about...diseases? Ones where you can look up the symptoms? You know what I mean?”

“I think so,” Ms. Kimball says. Her eyes dip briefly before refocusing on his face. “Let me show you the section.”

He realizes that she was looking at the scarf he wrapped hastily around his neck, completely out of place in the warm May weather. More heat creeps into his face.  He wonders what she’s thinking. He fidgets with the ends of the scarf and says, “Um, thanks for the help.”

“That’s my job,” she says, with a polite expression that Simmons tries not to over-analyze. She turns and calls to a group of teenagers, “Sit in chairs, not on the table, guys!” Then she gestures for him to follow her.

He’s grateful when she leaves him alone with a pile of books. He’s good at research, focusing on a topic and reading as much as possible about it. There’s something calming about devoting one’s entire attention to something. He pores over the books, looking up all the symptoms he felt the day before: joint pain, dizziness, headache, intense fatigue, difficulty thinking….

Simmons leans back in his chair. “Seriously?”

Someone shushes him, but he barely notices, too busy frowning at the book.

Decompression sickness. _Decompression sickness._ It doesn’t make sense! They’d teleported, not gone deep-sea diving. Then again, he supposes teleportation could mimic extreme changes in air pressure. Still, he frowns at the book. Does the spell only affect the caster that way, or were Church and Carolina unaffected because they’re witches? He doesn’t have enough data to form a conclusion, just to throw around theories.

He leans back in his chair, wincing as his neck twinges again. “I need more information,” he mutters. He shuts the book decisively. Time to see if Grif is still hiding and avoiding his questions.  

 

* * *

 

Carolina’s almost glad to be back at school. It’s an escape from the weird tension that’s filled the brownstone since Kimball learned about Locus and Felix’s jailbreak from the witch news channel. Carolina’s spent most of the week sleeping over at Niner and Connie’s houses, and she’s pretty sure Church has been hiding out at Tucker’s.

She still hesitates at the door to Mr. Simmons’ classroom. Clashing emotions churn in her stomach. Every time she thinks about that night, she feels a mix of embarrassment, disappointment, and insecurity. She’s not used to screwing up, and she made the two biggest mistakes of her life in one hour. Does Simmons still have bruises?  

She takes a deep breath, aware of Wash’s curious look, and goes inside.

Simmons doesn’t have bruises. He’s wearing his usual cardigan, and smiles awkwardly when he spots her. He fiddles with his collar, and Carolina makes a beeline to her seat as he says, a little loudly, “Good morning, everyone! Did, uh, you guys enjoy your, um, impromptu vacation?”

“Yeah, every day but Monday,” North says, shooting his sister a dark look.

South smirks. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the memo.”

“You gave York five bucks not to tell me school was cancelled! I showed up at 8:30 and the only people around were the construction workers who laughed at me!”

York grins. “Funny thing is that I would’ve done it for free.”

“You guys both suck,” North says.

“North,” Simmons says warningly, and then stops as Church comes inside with Caboose and Tucker. “Right, uh, I know you guys probably didn’t want to come back, especially when we’re so close to, um, the end of the year, but I thought we could do what I promised.”

Niner sits up straight in her chair. “Wait, are we setting things on fire?”

“We’re doing a controlled experiment that includes a flame and a chemical reaction.”  

“We’re setting stuff on fire,” York says, grinning. “ _Awesome_.”

Simmons makes a face. Carolina thinks he’s trying to look stern. “If we’re doing this, everyone needs to pay attention and be careful. I don’t want to explain to any parents how one of you set yourself on fire.”

Tucker leans over and whispers, “Hey, Church, who’s going to the hospital? I’m betting on Caboose. Or whoever is Caboose’s partner today, which is...Maine.”

“Who cares?” Church whispers back, rolling rolling his eyes, and then glances at Simmons. When Simmons notices, he pauses mid-explanation of the experiment. For a second they both just look at each other; Carolina tenses even before Church, still staring with a weird sort of challenge on his face, points a finger and sends Tucker’s goggles magically spinning off the table.

“Aw, what?” Tucker complains, leaning over to get them.

Everyone’s talking among themselves and fiddling with the equipment, so maybe only Carolina sees the quicksilver expression on Simmons’ face. There’s shock and then envy and then irritation before he forces a smile and says brightly, “Right, um! Safety is important, so I want everyone to wear goggles today--”

He turns towards his table; his elbow swings wide and knocks over a container. Its content spill, and a second later the table’s on fire, and so is Mr. Simmons. “Oh, sh--” He yelps, batting wildly at his sweater, and then rips it off, knocking his glasses askew. He adjusts them and runs for the fire extinguisher amid yelling and some cheers from the students.

Carolina’s on her feet, but Simmons has it handled. He sprays the flames until there’s nothing left but foam. “Well,” he says weakly, still clutching the extinguisher. He’s breathing hard. “I guess this is a good time to reiterate lab safety?”  

At the round of applause, his eyes narrow. “Glad you guys enjoyed the show.”

“Yeah, the gun show!” Tucker says, weirdly indignant. “Why do you have a six-pack?”

Simmons blinks. Now that Carolina isn’t distracted by the yelling and the flames, she realizes that Simmons is wearing dress slacks and a white tank top. She blinks at the muscles in his arms as Church hisses under his breath, “Is _that_ why he was so heavy?”

Tucker jabs a finger in Simmons’ direction. “Why do _you_ have muscles? You’re a nerd!”

Before Simmons can answer, the door opens and Donut pokes his head inside. “I heard yelling and….” His curious gaze falls on the foam-covered table. He tsks. “Oh, Simmons. If you need another vacation that badly, Frank and I would _love_ a threesome! I’m sure the spa has a spot for you to fill--” Carolina sees the exact moment that Donut notices Simmons and his bare arms. He breaks off with a startled squeak, his eyes widening. For the first time all year, he seems speechless. The shock doesn’t last long. She watches Donut glance Simmons up and down before he says, “I can see why you’ve been hiding behind cardigans. The kids are never going to concentrate now.”

“It’s not fair,” Tucker complains. “Nerds shouldn’t be--” He clamps his mouth shut and glowers as Caboose says cheerfully, “Wow, Mr. Simmons! You look really strong!”

“Yeah, Mr. Simmons,” Niner says, leaning forward. She has a notebook out, pencil posed against a fresh page. “What’s your workout routine? Curls, bicep presses….?”

“That is _so_ not fair,” York mutters.

“Um,” Simmons says. He looks confused.

South taps her own pen impatiently against the table. “Your workout routine?”  

Simmons sets the extinguisher down on the table. He rubs at his shoulder, still looking bemused by everyone’s reactions. “Um, just the usual stuff? Squats, lunges, presses, forty minutes on the treadmill--” He keeps going.

Carolina takes advantage of everyone’s distraction to lean across the aisle and punch Church in the arm. When he yelps and whispers, “What?” she glares back and snaps, “What do you mean, what? What was that?”

Church looks embarrassed and defensive. “I wanted to see what he would do.”

“What, and you thought, let’s see him react to--” Carolina waves her hand vaguely “--in the middle of class? You’re lucky he only set the table on fire! I know you don’t like--” She stops, taking a breath. This is definitely not a conversation they can have in school. “We’re talking about this later.”  

“--but I try to divide things into leg days, arm days, and rest days,” Simmons says. He flushes a little, and then frowns. His expression shifts from confusion to suspicion. “Okay, nice job pretending that you guys are actually interested in exercise. But we should get back to the experiment.” He pauses, staring at the foam, and makes a face. “Or hold off until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” Niner agrees. She scribbling stuff down in her notebook, looking more interested than she has all year. “So with your arms, how many reps per day? You must use dumbbells? What weight?”

“That’s-- I have a checklist at home. If you’re serious,” Simmons says, and pauses. From his expression, Carolina realizes that he thinks the class is having a joke at his expense. He makes an aborted gesture, like he was aiming to adjust his sweater and forgot he’s just in his tank top. “If you’re seriously interested, I still have a beginning routine list that my the-- that I used when I started.”

He picks up his discarded cardigan from the ground. “Crap,” he mumbles, inspecting it. The fluorescent lights show clear burn-marks on the sleeve. He sighs. “I liked this one.” He steps to the class closet and opens it, pulling out another cardigan that’s a slightly darker shade of red than the original.

“Oh my god,” someone whispers behind Carolina, anguished. “He’s like a hot Mr. Rogers.”

 

* * *

 

  

 

 

* * *

 

Carolina fidgets with her pencil, thinking over the conversation she’s going to have to have with Church about Mr. Simmons. He can’t keep needling him, not when they still have three weeks of school left, and he definitely can’t use magic in front of everyone--

“Is this seat taken?” Felix asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer, dropping into the chair beside her with a smirk. He steals her pencil from her unresisting hand. Twirling it idly between his fingers, he adds, with that same sharp cheer from that night, “Thought we should have a talk.”

Carolina’s mind goes blank, empty of anything but panic, before all her mom’s advice floods her brain. But what can she do without getting bystanders involved? If she still had the pencil, she could stab him, but--

Maybe that shows in her face, because Felix’s smirk broadens. “Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn’t try anything if I were you. See, unlike a dumb teenager, I actually know how to make a spell do what I want it to. And what I want is you to sit right there, nice and quiet, and listen to what I’ve gotta say. You do anything or say anything, every mortal in this room is gonna notice. And mortals are so _touchy_ about these things.”

Carolina grits her teeth. A quick glance around confirms that no one’s noticed Felix sitting next to her, not even Mr. Pool, the teacher overseeing study hall that day.

“Half mortal, right?” Felix nods, like she’s said something. “Yeah, you can always tell.  Hear me out. You hate the Council. All their rules, total nonsense, old power tripping fogies ruining everything for everyone. They make rules just to screw with the rest of us. So here’s my proposal. You don’t say anything. You and your buddies let us go on our merry way.”

The pencil in his hand turns into a knife between one second and the next; Felix leans in real close with a smile sharper and brighter than the blade in his hand. “And we burn the Council down for you.”

Carolina starts to speak, and bites her tongue.

Felix laughs. “I mean, we still owe you guys a favor, and I like to make sure favors are fun for everybody involved. Without your great spell, Locus and I would still be freezing on Pluto.” He drops his voice to a mockingly confiding whisper. “If you end up traveling the universe, word of advice. Skip Pluto. It’s just ice and rocks. Mars is where all the good stuff is.”

He leans back in the chair and holds the knife up, admiring his handiwork as Carolina stares at him. “We’ll handle the Council, like we did old Lozano and his son. You’re doing great at keeping your mouth shut, by the way. Keep that up, and we’ll all get what we want. Now, I enjoyed our chat but places to go, Council members to track down. You get it. But I'm a nice guy, so here, have a present and a reminder. Seal your spells, kid.”

He sets the knife on top of her open notebook. Then he gets to his feet, whistling to himself. She watches him saunter across the room, pausing only to flick his fingers at Mr. Poole and make his chair break under him.

Carolina’s left with cold panic and rage churning in her stomach and a knife. As carefully and quietly as she can, she points her finger at the knife and whispers, “Go away, go away, _go away_.” It doesn’t move. She tries to think of a spell. “This knife will get me into major trouble, hide it in my bedroom on the double.”

Nothing happens, and Carolina’s really starting to panic now. She doesn’t trust Felix at all. He’s probably hoping someone will see her with the knife and she’ll get expelled or something. Her backpack is under her seat. She hastily shoves the weapon inside.

Then she tries to think. It’s hard to focus when all she wants to do is hit Felix in his stupid, smirking face and tell him that they’re not allies or whatever he thinks they are. She didn’t help him and Locus on purpose. She just wanted to see her mom. And now everything’s screwed up.

She drops her head to the table, her head meeting the fake wood with a dull thud, and groans.

“Uh, you okay? Just think of summer. Three more weeks, and there’s nothing to worry about.”  

“Yeah,” Carolina says, trying not to think about the knife in her bag. “Nothing to worry about….”

 

* * *

 

We at OhMyWitchyCarolina don’t have an Honorable or Dishonorable Mention today for obvious reasons, but instead we’ve managed to snag a short but interesting interview with the head writer and director of Carolina: The Teenage Witch. Benjamin Giraud was one of three writers who worked on the show for its entire run. We kept our questions focused on season one this time, but we hope to get another interview in the future! We hope you all enjoy this Q&A as much as we did!

 **OhMyWitchyCarolina:** So, were you surprised to get an email asking for an interview about _Carolina: The Teenage Witch_?

 **Benjamin Giraud:** A little! I knew that Hulu had acquired streaming rights, but I wasn’t really expecting this reaction to an old show. But I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. _Carolina: The Teenage Witch_ only lasted as long as it did because it had a small but mighty following.

 **OMWC:** Obviously our first question is going to be about Simmons.

 **BG:** I had a feeling!

 **OMWC:** Did you intend from the start to have Simmons successfully use magic and overturn one of the main rules of the Sabrina the Teenage Witch universe?

 **BG:** Short answer? No. Long answer? Nope. The blue spell was a joke, and it wasn’t until we’d finished filming the episode that someone said, “So, wait, Simmons is a mortal who can do magic? Doesn’t that sort of….break the universe?” Not going to lie, we all sort of panicked a bit. We threw around some ideas, like Simmons being a witch with amnesia or Simmons secretly being a half-mortal witch undiscovered by the Council, but we finally just went with, “Yeah, let’s run with the weirdness of mortals doing magic and see what happens.”

 **OMWC:** Wow, we really thought you’d planned that, based on everything that happens later! We’re all glad you didn’t think that joke through until it was too late to change. Speaking of plans, what was the deal with those crossover guests? I mean, Roland as the first guest? _Roland_? Was he really your first choice?

 **BG:** Well, no. The Powers That Be really wanted crossover episodes to draw in the Sabrina fans, but with scheduling conflicts, we could only work in Mr. Pool, Mr. Kraft, and Roland. Even that Sabrina in the hallway scene was actually just a scene from the Sabrina series with Church and Carolina green-screened in!

 **OMWC:** I guess that makes sense. Still, definitely not the characters everyone wanted for the show.

 **BG:** Oh, I know. But they were all great guys to work with, and you know we did eventually get those scheduling conflicts sorted out--

 **OMWC:** Spoilers!

 **BG:** Right, sorry.

 **OMWC:** Since we’re talking about characters, I-- man, I would love to pick your brain about Church, but I feel like we’d hit a minefield of spoilers. And besides, I love Carolina so much. Can you talk a little about how she was developed? She has a lot in common with Sabrina, and I know some critics claimed she was just a copy, but they’re so clearly different, and Carolina-- Whoops. Going to just let you answer the question now!

 **BG:** What was the question again?

 **OMWC:** Can you talk about how you created Carolina?

 **BG:** Right, yeah, of course. So when we were first developing the pilot, we were given a basic template of, well, another half-witch teenage girl. That was about it. They probably wanted Sabrina 2.0, but none of us wanted to write that. So we tried to think how we could take that similarity and make it as different as possible. It started simple, like Carolina’s parents still being married, Carolina going to live with strangers rather than aunts, and Carolina being a world traveler who has to adjust both to witch life and America. That helped shape her personality, but I don’t remember who said, “Sabrina gets upset about not seeing her mom. What if Carolina got angry?”

 **OMWC:** She has a lot of be angry about!

 **BG:** Definitely! Carolina’s role model is her mom, and her mom literally has devoted her life to helping people and rebuilding after disasters. That’s not a kid who will just sit around when she’s separated from her family. So once we figured that out, she was pretty easy to write.

 **OMWC:** And Carolina not liking sweets?

 **BG:** We thought it was funny.

 **OMWC:** That’s fair. It is really funny. Okay, we’ve got time for last question. Oh, man, it’s so hard to choose! Okay, how about this one. Was there a season one episode that got tossed around and never developed?

 **BG:** There was talk of a Valentine’s Day episode, if you can believe it!

 **OMWC:** No! After Yom Kippur, Halloween, and Christmas and Hanukkah?

 **BG:** Oh yeah. The Powers That Be wanted us to add some romance to the series.  

 **OMWC:** Romance? I think I’m curious and a little scared.

 **BG:** We were going to play around more with York’s unrequited crush on Carolina. And Tucker was going to ask someone to be his Valentine-- I feel like it was South? Or Niner. Either way he was going to crash and burn.

 **OMWC:** Sort of sounds like we dodged a bullet there. No offense. I mean, York’s crush on Carolina is cute, but Tucker and South or Niner? I don’t know about that.

 **BG:** No offense taken! There’s a reason it didn’t get written.

 **OMWC:** I’d love to ask more questions, but I know you have limited time. Thanks so much for answering our questions! Before you go, was there anything you wanted to say to the fans?

 **BG:** Yes. I just wanted to thank them and you for your dedication. It’s been amazing to watch this half-forgotten show get some love again. I love seeing old fans talk about the show, but also you guys have been introducing new fans to Carolina, and that’s so cool. I hope you guys have fun with the rest of your Best of list!

 **OMWC:** Oh, we will. Thanks so much!


End file.
